


Ice Cubes

by RobinPlaysTrumpet15



Series: Bracelets [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Camping, Hurt/Comfort, Ice as therapy, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kind of a major character death, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mentions of Cancer, Nikolai plisetsky dies, ice cubes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 23:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10684875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinPlaysTrumpet15/pseuds/RobinPlaysTrumpet15
Summary: After two years of healing, Yuri's life falls apart rapidly. Victor, Yuuri, and Otabek take him on a camping trip, but bad news awaits their arrival home.





	Ice Cubes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I hope you like this fic! I have been working on it since last night and had fully planned for it to be a one-shot and... here we are. Enjoy!

Cold. Cold enough that he couldn’t feel his palm or fingers anymore. So cold it had started to hurt, but Yuri couldn’t find it in him to care.

It had been Victor who found him. Victor who stared with a horrified look for all of a split second before reaching out. His hand was on Yuri’s wrist so fast, the blonde hardly had time to react. The grip had been hard enough to ache, causing Yuri to open his hand and drop the pocket knife onto the sleeping bag beside his knee. Victor grabbed it as he continued to hold Yuri’s thin wrist.

“Where did you get this?” Victor demanded. His tone was harsh, and Yuri found it hard to meet the man’s gaze.

When Yuri just shrugged, Victor sighed heavily. “Where, Yura.” It was hardly a question, more of a demand.

Yuri ducked his head, blonde locks obscuring his face. “Otabek’s pack…”

A second and Victor was letting go of Yuri, pulling away, leaning back out of the tent opening. They should have know. They should have known better! Known better than to leave Yuri alone where he could get to a sharp object. Known better than to let him be by himself in the tent to begin with.

Victor hated to think of Yuri as a child, a toddler, to keep safe. He knew the kind of struggled Yuri faced on this front. He knew the hopelessness, the feeling of having nowhere else to turn, nothing else to do. But he couldn’t help it. They all had to keep an eye on the blonde teen every second of the day. Otabek slept with him at night, Victor and Yuuri spent time outside of skating with him, Lilia watched him during practice. Everything had reverted back to where they had started two years ago!

Yuri had relapsed. In the course of a day, everything Yuri had worked so hard for had flown straight out the window. He’d gone from almost never feeling the urge to cut, to losing his voice in the shower, nails and a blade ripping at skin. He hadn’t told anyone until Yuuri noticed the marks during practice two days later.

His grandpa was in the hospital. Nikolai had been feeling ill for weeks before Yuri had demanded the man go to the doctor. So he had made an appointment for the following week, and when he came home, he’d told Yuri he just had a common beg. It would be gone with some rest and medication. The blonde had believed him. He;d never been given a reason to distrust his grandfather so he wasn’t going to start now.

By the next week, the man was lying in a hospital bed, dying. Nikolai had lied. He had stage four leukemia. Terminal cancer.

That night, when visiting hours were over, Yuri had gone home and cried. He had screamed and shouted and broken things and thrown his phone. He had cut for the first time in months. Nine months, to be exact. He knew. He’d counted. The following day was filled with discomfort as he went through the motions, gauze pads taped over his hips, all the way up to his waist. That was the day he told his friends the bad news.

After that, nearly everyone had hugged him and cuddled him. Yuri put on a brave face for all of them. All of them except Otabek anyway, who insisted on coming over and staying the night. Yuri’s first immediate thought was of the bloody mess left in the bathroom, but he couldn’t fight it. The 21 year old knew better than to leave him alone. So Yuri had “let” him and spent the first fifteen minutes they were home cleaning the bathroom so Otabek wouldn’t suspect anything. He did anyway.

Two weeks of this pattern, and Yuri was fed up. He was fed up with being watched and coddled. He was fed up with watching his grandfather suffer in the hospital waiting to die. He was fed up with cutting every other night. Mostly, he was fed up with the disappointed looks he got from his friends, the people who claimed they were there for him no matter what.

Victor had been the one to suggest a camping trip. When he had announced the idea with enthusiasm, Yuri, Yuuri, and Otabek could only stare at him with these ‘what the fuck’ faces. Yuri protested for three days before finally relenting… after all their stuff was packed into the car to drive out to the campgrounds, no less. Yuuri had silently breathed a sigh of relief that, supposedly, Yuri wasn’t going to make this trip hell for the four of them.

The first day had been fine. Of the four of them, surprisingly only Victor knew how to make a fire. The two tents were set up with relative ease, Yuri and Otabek in the orange one, and Yuuri and Victor in the green one. The campsite had an old wooden shelter over a paved stone area with two picnic tables and a small metal grill. The night had been… fine was probably the agreed upon word. The four had to figure out different sleeping positions to avoid the rocks on the ground, but once that was over, the night went rather smoothly.

The next morning was slow and lazy, breakfast consisting of poptarts and cereal. They went on a hike, and later went “creeking”, which Yuri learned just meant stomping around in a creek with water that might come up to your knees in some places. Might.

The afternoon dissolved quickly into nothingness. Victor threw out ideas for what they could do, but one of them vetoed almost every suggestion. The only one that passed was maybe putting together a smallish bonfire that evening. After half an hour of sitting around and staring at each other, Yuri had declared them all “boring as hell” and said he was going to take a nap.

In all fairness, Yuri had tried to sleep. Really, he truly had. But he itched. His hips were burning and all he wanted to do was reach down and claw at them until skin gave way and the blood soaked his shirt. But…

No. He couldn’t do that. They would know. There would be no way he could clean that up…

And THAT was definitely not the train of thought he needed. He needed to think of reasons why he shouldn’t cut… reasons that would keep him going. Not things like Otabek might find him.

And he tried. He laid on top of his green sleeping bag, staring at the top of the tent, trying so hard to find reasons. He would miss skating… not good enough today… His cat… Grandpa… Otabek…

Otabek’s pack… Otabek’s pocket knife…

No no no no no!!!! Stop that!!!

Yuri fought and fought, but the longer he tried to derail the thought process, the further it pushed on. And the next thing he knew… he was sitting up, Otabek’s black knife resting in his palm. It was an unfamiliar weight, but a pressure on his palm that he was fine with, comfortable with even. And then he just… sat there and… stared at the blade. Stared at the curve of the sharp edge. He noticed how there were two nicks near the tip as he studied it.

And then there was a quick zzzzip, and Victor was leaning his head into the tent. The man held a bright smile on his face, mouth open, ready to call the teen awake. But the second froze, and the smile dropped. Victor’s blue green eyes widened in shock, horror growing in understanding.

The knife was out of Yuri’s hand before he could even blink.

“Where did you get this?” Victor asked. His voice was low and hard, Yuri could hardly listen to it. He shrugged, staring at the side of the tent. A mosquito had gotten trapped under the rain fly, between the bug net and the waterproof fabric.

A sigh erupted from Victor’s throat, his grip tightening on Yuri’s wrist. “Where, Yura.”

Yuri flinched as he hung his head lower, his hair falling over his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Victor.

“Otabek’s pack…”

Victor hesitated only a second before letting go of Yuri and crossing the grassy area to the firepit. He stopped by the chair Otabek sat in and handed the knife to the man. The confused look on the black haired man’s face morphed into a darker look, black eyes darting to catch Yuri’s green ones.

Victor said something low that the blonde couldn’t quite catch. The other nodded, eyes never leaving Yuri. Victor walked away, over towards the pavilion and their cooler. He opened the blue and white box cooler, dug down to the bottom, and let it shut. He was back over in front of the tent in seconds, crouching down, something held in his hand.

“Hold out your hand.”

Yuri did so without thinking. He trusted Victor. Trusted him in a way he trusted no one else. Victor had taught him to paint, told Yuri his story, helped him begin to heal. Victor would not do something to hurt him.

Victor placed a single ice cube in Yuri’s hand, and made the teen make a fist around it and squeeze hard.

“Hold onto the ice when you want to cut. It’ll relieve some of the stress and compulsion to hurt yourself.” Victor explained.

Yuri nodded, staring down at his clenched fist. He could see his fingers beginning to turn red from the cold. Yuri sat there, cold water running over his palm and dripping onto his knee. A wet patch grew under his hand on the black material of his skinny jeans, but he couldn’t seem to care. The cold was numbing him, but biting sharply at his flesh as well.

Something about the sensation was different from painting. Well, it was completely different, but this was… it was…

Relieving.

It hurt. It stung like a bitch. But, wasn’t that what Yuri had been looking for anyway? He watched as his finger got redder and redder, nails turning the barest hint of purple blue. His palm was numb, the bold still a constant sting that Yuri wanted. He wanted it on his hips, over the white scars and healing red lines. He wanted-

“Yura?”

Yuri’s head snapped up, eyes locking on Otabek. He was crouching right where Victor had been, one hand against the ground to steady himself.

“Can I come in?”

Yuri thought for only a split second before nodding. Otabek toed off his boots, leaving them lying haphazardly outside the tent with Yuri’s converse as he climbed into the somewhat confined space. The tent was big enough for both of them with wiggle room but it could get complicated when trying to figure out limb placement. After a moment of adjustment, Otabek pressed himself into Yuri’s back, arms wrapping gently around the blonde’s waist. He leaned his cheek against the back of Yuri’s shoulder, thumbs rubbing gently over small areas on the blonde’s sides.

The man said nothing. He was good at silence. They were got at silences together. Often, the two of them hanging out consisted of sitting in the same room together, doing their own separate things, but it never felt awkward. They didn’t regret saying nothing. The two just existed together. They were good at it.

Right there was where they stayed until Yuuri called across the campsite that dinner was ready. Even then, they ate in the tent, the flap open so they weren’t cut off from Victor and Yuuri. The two older men acted as if nothing was different about the seating arrangements. Whatever kept Yuri safe and comfortable was fine by them.

Yuuri turned in the earliest, pecking Victor on the cheek as he stood and moved toward their tent with a yawn. Victor went a little bit later, making sure to put out the fire before leaving his chair.

Yuri began to get fidgety again, the movement catching Otabek’s attention. He had been reading a book but he wasn’t focussed. He was watching Yuri, keeping tabs without smothering him.

Without a word, Otabek left the tent, picking his way over to the pavilion through the dark, flashlight in hand. Quickly, he filled a ziplock baggie with ice and hurried back to the tent. Once in, he shut the flap, hoping not to leave again before inevitably waking in the middle of the night to piss. Otabek motioned for Yuri to join him in his lap. The blonde did, settling between the man’s thighs. Otabek hummed at the pleasant warmth that was his kind of more than friend. He lifted the side of Yuri’s shirt and pressed the bag out ice to his hip.

Yuri shivered but didn’t pull away. He let Otabek press the cold ice into his skin, cooling it and relieving the ache to tear, to rip, to slice.

Yuri sighed, letting his head fall back against Otabek’s shoulder, hands splaying over the older’s. Otabek leaned into Yuri’s neck, smelling. Despite having spent a day in the woods, air warm enough to sweat a tiny bit but not be uncomfortable, the teen still smelled of applies. Yuri never had been much a fan of smelling “manly”.

“Beka…” Yuri mumbled, eyes falling shut.

It occurred to Otabek that this was not the appropriate time or place for these things. Yuri was on edge, he was hurting, and Otabek was not going to make it better by… doing whatever this was leading to.

“Yura, it’s getting late. We should sleep.” Otabek pulled back from Yuri, carefully ensuring the blonde was the one holding baggie of ice.

Yuri whined, only loud enough for Otabek to hear him.

“Please, Beka-”

“Bed time.”

Yuri grumbled as he changed, tugging on a pair of short shorts before climbing into the sleeping bag beneath him.

As the man lay attempting to sleep, he felt bad. He felt bad shutting Yuri down, but he knew that this was not the way to deal with pain. Tomorrow would be better when Yuri was calm and collected.

The following days went well. Eventually, they did run out of things to do, so the four of them ended up playing a lot of card games. But really, it didn’t matter. The three older men had achieved their desired goal: remove Yuri from everyday life. There was something damaging about going through the motions, and while there wasn’t an immediate, outright change, there was still something different. Something detached.

Maybe this had been what Yuri needed.

But some thought, some dread, nagged at the back of Otabek’s mind. What it… what if he got worse when they went home?

The last night was great. The day had been full of frisbee, another hike, more creeking, and numerous card games. It was late when the four of them said goodnight and went to bed.

Once inside and changed, Otabek and Yuri sat quietly. The older was rummaging around, ensuring that what could be packed was so that he wouldn’t have to scramble tomorrow morning. All his clothes were there, his flashlight, rain jacket, towel. Both pairs of shoes were currently sitting on the ground outside his tent. For all of a split second, he panicked when he didn’t find his pocket knife. Had Yuri taken it again without him noticing? But no… wait… Otabek calmed as he reached down to the waistband of his shorts. There is was, clipped next to his hip. That’s right, he had taken to carrying it on him all the time, just in case.

Suddenly, without any warning, Yuri was there, draping himself over Otabek’s back, arms reaching around to hold the man’s shoulders. Yuri’s blonde hair tickled at Otabek’s ear and neck, even as the younger turned to nose at the space behind his year, his jaw.

“What are you doing, beautiful?” Otabek questioned. Yuri just hummed a response, continuing, kissing at the stubble across his jaw.

“You trying to start something?”

Otabek could hear the sly grin in Yuri’s voice as his whispered, “And what if I am?”

Otabek grinned in response, pushing up on his knees and turning to face Yuri. He grabbed the blonde’s waist and tugged him closer, bringing their faces together, but never quite touching. Yuri pushed forward, hoping for some contact, a kiss, anything, but the older moved away playfully. Yuri whined high in his throat.

“Shh, Yura. You dads over there might hear you.” Otabek teased.

Yuri grumbled childishly. “They’re not my dads.”

Otabek laughed at him then. Sure, Yuri could be a downright pain when he pouted, but this was different. This was playful. This was something Otabek hadn’t seen in weeks, Yuri just letting go, not really worrying about anything. The man wanted to jump for joy and watch, transfixed at the same time. When they went back home, this Yuri would be gone again, and Otabek knew it.

“I wanna hear you ask for it.” Otabek said, leaning his forehead against Yuri’s.

A pout formed on Yuri’s pretty mouth. “Beka-”

“Ask or I’m going to sleep right now.”

There was a shift in the teen’s expression before he was looking at the black haired man with these practiced puppy dog eyes. “Please, Beka?”

“Please what?”

There was a flash of annoyance in Yuri’s pale green eyes before the look was carefully schooled away.

“Kiss me.”

Otabek grinned hard, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Yuri’s. The sides of their noses pressed together, but neither really seemed to care. They parted, just to come back together a split second later. Yuri breathed a little hard through his nose, hands on either side of Otabek’s head, grasping at short hair.

They parted, Yuri panting slightly, Otabek all but unphased. He loved to see Yuri out of breather after they kissed. It didn’t happen often, the kissing, but when it did, he liked to take advantage of it. Otabek ducked his head and pressed his lips to the side of Yuri’s neck, tongue darting out and licking the salty pale skin. He worked hickies and bruises into the pale skin, pulling back to admire his handiwork.

Yuri was full on panting now, a blush reddening his cheeks something awful. Otabek found the whole sight adorable.

“Otabek…” Yuri panted. A smirk pulled across the older’s lips before he leaned his weight forward into Yuri, pressing him backwards toward the ground. “Beka, I’m gonna-”

Yuri lost his balance and they went toppling backwards, landing on Otabek’s sleeping bag. Otabek gripped Yuri’s waist harder, shoving him up until his blonde head was resting on the pillow.

“Beka, what are you doing?”

The black eyed man smirked down at him again before pushing Yuri’s shirt up and pressing kisses into his sternum. One hand moved from Yuri’s waist, sliding up his stomach to play with a pink nipple. Yuri gasped, a fist finding itself caught between his teeth, muffling any noises that may escape. While Otabek wanted to hear every little noise the teen had to make, he also recognized the importance of keeping quiet. After all, the tents were by no means soundproof and Yuuri and Victor were all of ten feet away. (Possibly doing something similar, but still, near by.)

Otabek tweaked Yuri’s nipple, kissing over to the other and latching onto it, licking and sucking. Muffled groans sounded above his head, a sense of pride swelling in his chest. After a moment, the man switched his ministrations, latching onto the other and rolling the cooling wet one between his thumb and index finger. A hand landed on the back of his neck, fingers flexing against the short buzzed hairs at the nape of his neck.

A moment later and Otabek let off of Yuri’s nipples, kissing down his stomach to the waistband of the blonde’s short shorts. He slid a hand down over Yuri’s hip and onto his thigh. An obvious tent was there at the front of the lavender shorts. Otabek glanced up at his companion’s face, flushed red but watching his every move, his fist resting against the corner of his closed mouth. He was frowning.

“What do you want me to do, Yura?” Otabek asked quietly, sitting up on his knees. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Yuri hesitated only a second or two before he was shaking his head. “No… don’t stop…”

Otabek contemplated him for a moment. “Okay.” He leaned back over Yuri, hands holding him up on either side of the pillow. “What do you want me to do?”

Yuri squeezed his eyes shut, obviously embarrassed.

“Come on, Yuri, what do you want from me? Do you want me to jack you off?” Otabek whispered, a serious though relaxed look on his face. Not that Yuri could see it.

The blonde shook his head.

“Do you want me to suck you?”

Yuri was all but shaking now, trembling and squirming. He moved his fist back against his teeth, head nodding once.

“I need to hear you say it, Yuri. I won’t do it without consent.”

Sure, maybe this was teasing. But in a way, Otabek was also completely serious. Consent was always important, and if this was not something Yuri definitely wanted, Otabek didn’t want it either. He waited patiently as Yuri breathed heavily, seeming to work up the courage to say anything like that out loud.

“Yura,” Otabek started.

“Please…” Yuri squeaked. “Please suck me. I… I want you to…”

Otabek smiled. He leaned down, kissing the corner of Yuri’s mouth where his fist didn’t cover. He leaned away again, moving back down and hooking his fingers in the waistband of Yuri’s shorts. The blonde squirmed, lifting his hips to help pull the material down his legs. Otabek just looked for a moment.

Yuri really was pretty, his tank top bunched under his arms, shorts and underwear pulled down to his knees, cock half hard against his belly. Green eyes opened to look at Otabek, shying away at how the man just stared at him.

“Otabek…”

Otabek leaned down, taking Yuri in his hand and licking at the tip. He moved his hand up and down the shaft, coaxing the teen to full hardness. Yuri gasped, much louder than he had intended. His panting sped up, louder now, his hand pressed flat against his mouth. Otabek doubted that it would help.

He licked at the head, teasing the slit with the tip of his tongue before taking half of Yuri’s cock into his mouth. A deep, shuddering sigh tore out of Yuri’s throat, still quiet. The sound made Otabek preen a little bit. He bobbed his head, hand pressed down against Yuri’s hip. The man took all of Yuri into his mouth, nose pressing into blonde curls at the base of his cock. One hand reached down and dipped into his underwear, wrapping his fingers around his own cock and jerking quickly.

With no warning, Yuri was cumming into the back of Otabek’s throat. He twitched, crying out into his hand and whimpering as the older worked him through it, hollowing his cheeks and sucking. When the whining seemed to take on an uncomfortable edge, Otabek pulled off him, swallowing Yuri’s cum. Otabek never had much liked the taste, but this seemed alright. Especially if he didn’t have to taste it much at all.

The man made quick work of himself, jacking off quickly, cumming with a low groan. When he was finished, he looked up at Yuri. The teen’s eyes were shut, his hands resting on the pillow above his head. He was panting hard as if he had just skated his short program and free skate back to back. Then again, Otabek wasn’t sure he himself was much better at all.

Carefully, he took his hand out of his underwear, shimmying out of them and wiping the cum off his hand on the soiled fabric. Otabek reached over into his pack, found a different pair he could wear until getting home the next day and slipping them on, balling up the gross ones and shoving them down to the bottom of his pack.

When he turned back to Yuri, the teen hadn’t moved. Otabek smiled a little, a fond sigh escaping his lips as he leaned over and began fixing Yuri’s clothes.

“Yura,” Otabek whispered, hands on Yuri’s waist, now covered by his shirt again. “Come on, darling. You gotta help me out here.”

Yuri groaned, opening his eyes to look up at the man.

“We’ve got two beds here, sweetheart, and neither of them are big enough for both of us.” Otabek grinned. Yuri looked over at his own sleeping bag, pillow, and sleeping pad all of four inches away. He stared at it for a second before pulling them closer, rolling onto them, and staring expectantly at Otabek.

The man laid down on his own sleeping bag, facing Yuri, and no less than a second later, the blonde had thrown an arm and a leg over him, curling into Otabek’s chest. The black haired man smiled, wrapping his arms around Yuri’s back and keeping him close like that as they drifted.

The next morning held no teasing from either Victor or Yuuri, so Otabek suspected they had been quiet enough to avoid being caught. They tore down the campsite, cleaning up trash they found and packing everything back into the bed of the truck.

The ride home was uneventful, Victor and Yuri bickering about music choices on the radio before Yuuri told them both to shut up. From then on, Yuuri was in charge of the radio, and Yuri sulked in the back seat with Otabek. They only stopped once at a rest area to use the restrooms, during which time Yuri moved to the center seat and promptly settled himself into Otabek’s side. Otabek couldn't say he minded at all.

Getting home was the worst part. They stopped at Yuri’s house first, pulling out his and Otabek’s gear. The two trudged inside as Victor and Yuuri left for their apartment.

The first thing Yuri did was throw off all his clothes and hop into the shower, having not been able to get one for a couple days. Otabek grabbed his phone off the table where he had left it next to Yuri’s. There were a few texts from his family, mostly his sister asking when he would be back. Halfway through typing out a reply to her, Yuri’s ringtone began going off. The yellow phone was ringing from its place on the table. Otabek couldn't read the name on the screen, but the hastily taken picture seemed to be of the local hospital. Without thinking, Otabek answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is Dr. Alina Petrov. Is this Yuri Plisetsky?” a woman’s voice on the other end greeted him. Her tone was confused, though there was an underlying pitch that seemed to denote cheerfulness.

“No, he’s in the shower at the moment. Can I take a message?” Otabek said, shifting his gaze to the window.

“Ah, yes. I was calling to inform Mr. Plisetsky that his grandfather passed away this morning. It was peaceful, in his sleep.” The woman’s tone took on a sad edge to it, regretful.

Otabek stilled. He turned and stared at the bathroom door. His heart stopped. Yuri…

“Nikolai is… dead?” Otabek asked, shocked.

“Yes, sir. I am very sorry. We will be needing Yuri to come down here to handle some things.” Dr. Petrov said.

“I… yes, of course. I will tell him.” Otabek stuttered.

“Thank you. I am sorry for your loss, sir.” With that, Dr. Petrov hung up, the call ending. Otabek pulled the phone away from his ear, still staring at the closed bathroom door.

What was he going to tell Yuri?

For the next half hour, Otabek made calls to a couple of people, first on the list being Yuuri Katsuki. He told him what had happened and then immediately made it clear the no one was to mention it to Yuri until the blonde told them himself. Yuuri had promised and the call ended.

When Yuri did leave the bathroom, he went straight into his room, getting dressed and drying off.

“Otabek? I’m done, you can go shower now!” Yuri called through the house. There was only the one full bathroom and a half bath to choose from in the small house.

“Kay. Come out here when you’re done changing.” Otabek called back. He knew he sounded funny. His voice was lacking in emotion, a hollow, empty sound replacing the regular collected tone.

A few minutes passed and Yuri came into the living room, eyebrows knitted together, arms crossed over his chest.

“What’s up?”

Otabek sighed and stood from his place on the couch. He took a step forward, closer to Yuri, reaching out and rubbing his hands over the blonde’s biceps. “Yura… while you were in the shower, you got a call and I answered it. It was from Dr. Petrov.”

One of Yuri’s blonde eyebrows lifted, quirking at Otabek’s strange behavior.

“Your grandfather… he… he’s gone, Yuri.” Otabek sighed.

Both of Yuri’s eyebrows shot up, his mouth falling open. Pale green eyes widened in shock.

“W-what?! N-no, no. He didn't. This is mean, Otabek. Stop kidding around. Grandpa is fine. They’re taking care of him at the hospital!” Yuri fought, stepping away from the man.

“Yuri-”

“No! You’re lying!”

Otabek sighed, feeling sharp pinpricks behind his eyes as they began to water. “No, I’m not. He died this morning in his sleep.”

Yuri screamed then. He reached up, grabbed locks of his hair, and screamed. Tears streamed down his reddening cheeks. Suddenly he collapsed on the floor, knees buckling beneath him. Hiccups and sobs wracked his body as Otabek knelt down in front of him and tried to pull Yuri into his arms.

“No! N-no no no!” Yuri sobbed, pushing and kicking at the man to let him go. Otabek just held him tighter, feeling his own tears begin to fall.

“I know, Yura. I know.” Otabek whispered, one hand pulling Yuri’s from his hair to stroke at it.

“Grandpa!” Yuri sobbed. He stopped fighting, letting Otabek hold him, shaking hard and feeling unable to breathe.

Yuri didn't know how long he cried, how long he screamed and pleaded to no one. It broke Otabek’s heart, hearing the heart wrenching sobs tear through Yuri’s body.

When he did finally calm, Otabek checked over him. He wasn't hurt, no new scratches or the like. Yuri continued to hiccup and sniffle, the occasional tear still falling, but the effect was the same as before on Otabek’s heart. It hurt him more to see Yuri like this than to know Nikolai had passed.

“Yura, I know you don't want to… but we’ve got to go down to the hospital. They need you to take care of some things.” Otabek said, just barely above a whisper. Yuri nodded, pulling himself from Otabek’s lap and standing. Slowly, he put on his shoes, going to grab the car keys. Otabek beat him to it, not really trusting Yuri to drive at the moment.

The next few days were almost horrific to watch. Yuri drew away from everyone. He refused to go to skating practice, he refused to leave the house, he refused to answer calls that weren’t about the funeral he had to plan or the will his grandfather had written in the last couple days of his life. He talked very little and wouldn't make eye contact with Otabek.

What was he going to do?

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all liked this fic of mine. I'm actually quite proud of it as it is the longest single chapter story I have written. Please let me know what you thought, and as always, please point out any grammar mistakes so that I can fix them! Thank you!


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